Wonderland
by Miss Selah
Summary: Sarah thought she knew the Labyrinth, but she only knew part of it. Horses that shoe people, birch-tree witches, a clowder of cat people, and A-Jareth-That-Isnt... If Sarah ever wants to make it home again, she'll need to find old friends, make new allies, and learn to read between the runes. If she doesn't, then even if she gets to the center of the Labyrinth, she'll never get out
1. Sarah's Adventures in Wonderland

Title: Wonderland

Author: Miss Selah

Summary: On her way to a job interview, Sarah takes a wrong turn and her whole world is turned upside down.

Genre: Adventure / Romance

A/N: This started as a one shot and became something... more. If you would like a reference guide to some of the characters that will appear in this story, I recommend you visit your local library and pick up a copy of Brian Froud's The Runes of Elfland. Or purchase it; it's well worth the costs. Christmas present for Velvet Sometimes. I hope you all enjoy. I will update with regular frequency; I'm pretty sure Velvet wouldn't have it any other way.

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_Wonderland_

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She stared up at the skyscraper and gripped the strap of her purse just a little bit tighter.

_This is it. _

And what was she doing?

Sitting outside of the building where she had managed to land the interview of a lifetime, heart racing while the cab driver stared at her with strange, yellow eyes and a scowl.

"Eighteen fifty," he said, and narrowed his eyes at her. "You gonna get out, lady?"

Sarah met his scowl with her own. "Just give me a _minute, _okay?" She snarled, and handed him a twenty. She reached for her things as the cab driver made no effort to mask his snort of derision and stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind her with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

Jerk.

She took a few deep and calming breaths and ignored the squeal of the tires as the cab driver fled the street corner from behind her. _Obviously, _she thought with an angry whoosh of air, _he had somewhere to be in a hurry. _Sarah blinked up again, putting the incredibly rude cab driver out of her mind as she turned to face the building once more. The was that the light reflected off of the clear, wide windows and made the glass shine like diamonds in the early afternoon sun. She stared in awe at the architecture. _This _was what she had come to New York to do. _This. _

Sarah Williams had discovered her love of architecture when she was in high school and the small town that she had lived in had torn down an old stage that she used to rehearse at, dreaming of the day when she too might take the stage. She had been young and angry at the time, thinking it unfair that someone could come in and just tear down what she - and many of the town's older residents - had considered a treasure. She had actually cried when the wrecking balls had come, and her father'd had to grab her around the waist to stop her from running out and trying to stop them herself. It had been over before she had known it, and in a fit of nostalgia, Sarah had decided to break into the construction zone one night and steal a piece of the wreckage as memorabilia.

And that was when she had first saw it.

Deep in the construction zone, she had slipped under a large tarp and seen the skeleton of the building, and she'd stared in awe. rafters and crossbeams loomed above her and for an instant she'd had the sensation that she was inside the belly of a great beast. It was humbling and frightening, and she'd fled before she'd been able to collect a piece of the wreckage that she had been after.

Many months later, the new theater had been revealed. The architect had mixed a modern feel with the golden age of cinema. Plush velour curtains hung above high door arches, and red velvet wall paper covered the wood. Sarah had stroked the paper for a moment before she had placed an ear to the wall and heard the steady thrum of electricity as it pulsed through the building. "Listen, daddy," she had implored Robert, who was staring at her oddly. "You can hear the building's heart beating.

Her father had insisted that she not make a scene, and Karen had just been happy that Sarah was finally showing an interest in something that was not acting.

Toby had been totally engrossed in a video game.

And Sarah? Well, Sarah had lost her heart all over again to the building. Not for the first time, the building had given her a dream - it just wasn't the one that she had thought that she would have followed.

Staring up at this building, she decided that it was just too bright. She slipped on her sunglasses and shrugged on her suit jacket, buttoning it just beneath her less than ample bosom. She caught sight of her reflection in the window in front of her and smiled. She almost hadn't recognized herself. Her dress suit was a frosty ivory color that set off her dark features well. Under her arm she had a knock off leather business portfolio, and inside of it were all of the plans and designs that she had brought to present to the architecture firm by way of proving her worth. Aside from being young, she was also a woman applying for a cut-throat position that was in a predominantly male business. Not only that, but Waverley Industries was known for designing cutting-edge structures, the kind that were hailed as groundbreaking and would become city treasures. She'd been stressed out about it all week, knowing perfectly well that Waverly only hired the cream of the crop. Knowing that she was competing not only with people that she had gone to school with, but also people from around the country for the single position. Knowing that Waverly expected nothing less than high-sophistication and professional perfection.

Everything that Sarah had prepared herself for. Her work was the best that she could do, and if it was not good enough then she had no one to blame but herself. She'd had tried her best. But as for her appearance? She was collected and posh, her dark hair pulled up at her temples into a pearl clasp that left tendrils sweeping her face in a feminine but professional manner, she looked the part of everything that she had thought that she would never be.

Calm.

Collected.

And, well, if she was being completely honest, she looked kind of cool, too.

Smiling at her reflection she took one step, and promptly broke her heel.

_Don't panic, _she told herself as she looked down at her foot, and lifted it for inspection. _Maybe it just got caught and did not actually break. _She lifted her foot hopefully and sighed with exasperation when she saw the way that the heel dangled limply from the arch. Slamming her foot down, Sarah snapped it off the rest of the way and picked up the broken pieces.

Still, she reminded herself, it would do her no good to panic. Standing flat on one foot and half a foot higher on the other, Sarah immediately looked at her wristwatch and thanked every God she could think of that she had chosen to leave forty five minutes before she strictly had to to make sure that there was nothing that could possibly get in her way. Traffic had been easily negotiated, and she had plenty of time on her hands for emergencies like this one.

She looked around. She was in New York City, for God's sake, surely there had to be a shoe store within walking distance; wasn't one of the greatest things about this city supposed to be that you could get anything you wanted, any time of day, in less than fifteen minutes?

"Stupid heel," Sarah murmured and hobbled down the street, away from the office.

The streets were crowded, but perhaps not as crowded as she had expected them to be, especially at this hour in the afternoon. Maybe everyone was heading back to the office after enjoying their lunch hours? "Excuse me," Sarah asked a well dressed man as he walked by, "I'm looking for a shoe-"

"Beat it, I'm busy," he said, brushing her off as he kept walking.

"How rude," Sarah murmured under her breath, but then ran ahead a little bit as she saw a prim woman step out of a coffee parlour. "I'm sorry to bother you miss, but I was wondering if you could-"

"I don't have any money for you!" She snapped, not even bothering to look back at Sarah. "Go find a job!"

She, too, walked away without even giving her a glance.

Sarah scowled. "I'm _trying _to, I just need to find a shoe store!" Sarah screamed loudly, and turned around, trying to see if there was anyone else on the street that might be able to help her. When she had stepped out the cab, she had thought that the streets were rather crowded. Now, though, the few people that were around were all walking away from her, or into buildings.

She peeked into the coffee parlour that the woman had just walked out of and was reaching for the doorknob when she heard an old woman's voice.

"There's a cobbler down the next street over," Sarah started and turned, pressing her back to the glass door. A hobbled old woman smiled at her, missing some of her teeth.

Sarah did not want to stare, but found that she could not help herself. She was piled high with dirty rags and clothes, as though she had worn everything she owned at once. It was because of the strange amount of clothing that she wore that Sarah was unable to tell if she was oddly proportioned, or if it was just her imagination playing tricks on her. Still, there was no denying that she had an odd face. Though most of her skin was covered, her face and throat were bare. Her skin had the pale, sick color of an old birch tree, and the way that she hunched over a shopping cart filled with odds and ends gave her the appearance of an old stump. She was long of arm and had thin extremities, but the middle part of her was swollen and round as a fresh apple. Her face had a flat appearance, and with the odd color of her flesh, the shadows cast a strange light to it, making her nose look almost like a small, round peeble. The sun hit her white, plaited hair like a halo, and a crooked and knobbed finger was pointing down an alley to the next street over. "Hattock's Cobbles," the old woman said. "Small place, right over there. Fix and sells shoes, he does. Best around, and you can ask anyone!"

Sarah smiled at the old crone's kindness and felt very foolish indeed for feeling put off by her unusual appearance. "Thank you!" She said earnestly, and started to hobble down to the alley when the old woman's voice stopped her.

"Wait, there, missy," she said, and pushed her shopping cart after Sarah. "That's good information, wouldn't you say? Worth a coin or two, eh?"

"Oh? Oh..." Sarah frowned. She had given her last twenty to the cab driver and only had her credit card. "I... I'm sorry, I don't actually have any money on me right now." She genuinely was, too. The woman had been kind to her where the other people on the street had shrugged her off, and Sarah really did want to return her kindness in anyway that she could. "If you want to come with me, I could maybe pull something out at the store for you? Most places to that sort of thing. But... I only have my card right now."

"Plastic thing," the old woman puffed. "What good has _plastic _ever done anyone? Eh? Oh! I know!" She smiled her crooked smile at Sarah. "Give me that, then." She pointed at Sarah's feet.

Sarah looked down. "My shoes?" She asked, confused. "Will they fit you?"

The old woman shrugged.

"One of them is broken," Sarah said, but took them off anyway, presenting them to the old woman. "I suppose that's alright," she said, and the old woman took the broken shoe with a gleeful, maniac smile. "I mean, I'm buying new ones anyway, and he's only right through there, right?"

"Both of them?!" The old woman cackled with pleasure. "Generous thing! Oh yes, dearie, yes," the old woman said and stroked the soft leather of the white pumps with joy. "Just through there. Between the two buildings. You can't miss it, even if you wanted to!" She chortled out a laugh, and Sarah forced a smile.

"Well, thank you for your kindness," Sarah said, and frowned. "Are you sure that the shoes are enough?"

"More than enough for old Moira, dearie, more than enough!" The old woman waved a hand at her to shoo her away, and Sarah promised herself that if she ran in to the homeless woman again, she would at least buy her a meal. For now, though, Sarah had to hurry.

"I'd stay, but I'm really running late," Sarah said, and Moira waved her off again.

"Give Hattock a hello from me! Tell him Moira sent you, he'll give you a good deal!" She yelled after the girl, but Sarah was already dancing on the barefoot balls of her feet, heading down the alley.

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A/N: Reviews are the only payment I get. If you enjoyed this piece, please leave a contribution in the little box.


	2. Through the Birch Forest

Title Wonderland

Author: Miss Selah

Summary: On her way to a job interview, Sarah takes a wrong turn and her whole world is turned upside down.

Genre: Adventure / Romance

A/N: Thank you to chapter one's reviewers. I know it was a little slow, but hey, I cant just drop Sarah into Wonderland willy-nilly, can I?

Or wait... isn't that what I did?

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Chapter Two

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Sarah watched her step carefully as she began down the alley, but was surprised to find it was littered with more leaves and moist dirt than broken glass or garbage. Still, she had no particular desire to find out why the dirt was moist, and carefully sidestepped it for as long as she could. Soon, though, it became impossible as the piles of dirt grew, then spilled over. In the space of no more than ten yards, there was more dirt than sidewalk.

"Isn't that... weird," Sarah muttered as she stepped flat footed on to the dirt and was surprised to find it warm and soft. "I guess it's better than the alternative. She looked ahead down the dark alley and squinted. "Where's the next street?" She muttered out loud and kept walking.

It really was dark down there, she thought as she looked up. The buildings must have been taller than she thought, though, because she realized that something up above her must have been blocking out the sun.

It got darker as she walked down the alley and she placed her hand against the building on her left to try and guide her, only to pull it back in shock. "Impossible!" Sarah said, and touched the wall again with both hands. It was bark. "This was a brick wall," Sarah said, disbelieving. "I was absolutely sure of it!"

She touched it again to be sure, and the wall remained steadfastly made of white birch bark. She looked back down the alley the way that she had came. "Maybe I should just turn back," she said, warily.

Though it was unnaturally dark, Sarah knew that she had not walked very far and could not have been more than twenty or thirty yards away from the street and sunlight and other people, and rather than continue down the dark and unnatural alley, she decided to turn around.

She walked back the way that she had came, keeping her hand on the wall of bark, but rather than get brighter as she went back, it only seemed to get darker. Worry and fear began to fill her, but Sarah reminded herself that she was not far from the street now, and she had nothing to worry about. She walked further down, and her mantra began less about assurance and more about convincing.

"I should have reached the street by now..." she whispered under her breath. No sooner than the last word left her mouth, the wall ended in a round curve. She looked at her hand in the darkness and hissed with worry. "What?!"

Sarah reached back behind her and felt for the wall, but all that her hand encountered was a thin, white birch. "No, no, no, no, no!" Sarah walked in circles around the tree. "You should be a wall," she told the tree. "You were a wall!"

"Is this an intervention, then?"

Sarah squeaked with surprise and jumped forward, hugging the tree. Sarah spun around. Silhouetted against the dark forest was a man. He wore a cloak, which swirled in the light breeze. She could see that his hair was shoulder-length and blond. Something glinted about his neck. More than that she could not see in the dim light.

"Excuse me?" Sarah asked, her voice cracking. She hadn't heard him sneak up on her at all. He must have been very quiet.

The man was not smiling, as one might smile on greeting a stranger, nor was his expression fierce. His eyes were fixed upon Sarah's with an intensity she found compelling. When he took a step toward her, into the light shining from high above in the impossible forest of birch trees, she did not retreat. If his eyes had not hypnotized her, the golden chain around his neck might have. A sickle-shaped ornament hung from it, upon his chest.

His shirt was cream-colored, open at the front, loose-sleeved, with silken cuffs at the wrist. Over it he wore a tight, pale waistcoat. He was shod in white boots, over flesh colored tights, and on his hands were white kid gloves - the kind that someone might wear to a ball, Sarah though inexplicably. In one of them he held the jeweled knob of a curious cane with a fishtail shape at the end. An ivory top hat sat proudly on top of his head, a ribbon holding a plume of white owl feathers to it by way of decoration. A pocket watch of all things hung from his pocket, and Sarah was all at once enchanted with the man and his old world manner of dress, no matter how peculiar he might be. He reminded her of something out of her childhood dreams. Her mouth had gone dry with fright, and she pushed an unwanted memory back down. Carefully, she sat down. That felt safer, though she could not afford to sit there long. She had to find her way back.

"An intervention," he said again. "That tree is clearly a tree, but you're saying that it is a wall. Did it have an identity crisis?" He asked impractically. "Change of heart? If so, why do you want it to be a wall? It's clearly quite happy being a tree, you know."

She said, "Uh ...," and cleared her throat. "Who are you?"

"Don't you know?" The man's voice was calm, almost kindly.

"Why would I?" Sarah asked, perturbed and entranced all at the same time. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

"I haven't the slightest," said the strange man, and he sat down beside her. "I woke up in this forest one day, and I don't remember who I am or how I got here." He looked down at her feet and smiled. "Oh! But I know who you are!"

Sarah's breath caught. "You... you do?"

He nodded. "Cinderella," he said, pointing to her feet. "What have you done with your shoes, Princess?"

Sarah drew in a breath at his condescending tone. "I am not Cinderella!"

"Aren't you?" He asked. "Then... it must be Snow White. Your pale skin, your dark hair... a beautiful girl lost in a forest. Red lips," he stared at them and for a moment, Sarah thought for sure that the stranger was going to kiss her. She pulled back in alarm at the thought, and his eyes returned to hers with a dazed expression. "You're Snow White."

Sarah blushed in the darkness. "I'm... I'm not..." _beautiful_, her mind supplied, but instead she said, "I'm not Snow White, either."

"Then who are you?" the man asked, frowning.

"I'm just... I'm just Sarah."

He leaned in closer, and Sarah was struck with how blue both of his eyes were. They stood out piercingly, a striking difference to his pale skin and clothes. "Just Sarah," he whispered, and pressed his forehead to hers in an overly familiar manner. "Do you know who I am, just Sarah?"

Sarah pulled away from him, her face hot. "No, I don't. You shouldn't get so close to me, we've only just met."

"That's odd," he said sadly. "I feel like I've known you forever." He pressed a fist to his chest, just beneath his odd necklace. "Right here. It feels like I know you."

Sarah frowned. "You don't," she assured him. "I've never seen you before in my life."

Sarah took a deep breath and stood again. "There is no use in just sitting around," she said practically, and looked down at the man who was still sitting. "And you - you don't know who you are, or where we are, but-" a lesson from years past reverberated in her head. Ask the right questions - especially when dealing with lunatics. "Do you know the way out of this forest?"

The man shrugged. "I don't know who I am, and I don't know where I am, and I don't know the way out of the forest."

Sarah sighed. Figured.

"But-" Sarah looked at him with hopeful eyes and a smile. "I do know how to get to Folly's Bridge. It's that way." He pointed helpfully towards the way that Sarah had been walking before she turned herself around and stood.

"Folly's bridge?" Sarah asked. "Where's that?"

"I'm not sure where it is, but it's where I woke up. I keep ending up there," he said with concerned brows drawing together. "Almost as though I keep walking in circles. But I'm careful as can be. I keep the sun over my shoulders and the sky over my head and the ground under my feet." He gave her a serious, stern look. "Do you think perhaps I've been walking around the world?"

Sarah smiled at him. "I doubt it," she said. "It's just easy to get lost in a forest."

"Easy to get lost," he agreed, "if you don't know where you're going."  
Sarah nodded and reached into her portfolio. What did she have on her? Some lipstick, a drafting pencil... paper. Plans. She frowned. Not much. Still, she pulled out her drafting pencil and marked the birch tree.

"Now, we know that we've been here," she said. "There's not much light to go off of..."

"There is if we head that way," he told her. "I only came over this way because you were crying."

Sarah's face got hot again, this time with shame. "I... I wasn't crying!" She exclaimed.

He looked at her, his sad blue eyes a perfect contrast to his gentle smile. "It's okay if you were, you know," he said, and brushed her hair behind her ear. "I promise that I wont tell anyone. You don't have to be so brave, you know."

Sarah brushed his hand away from her. "I'm not being brave," she argued. "I wasn't crying."

He dropped the subject, but it was obvious from his teasing smile that he didn't believe her. "The forest is big," he said, "but it doesn't go on forever." A finger to his lips, and then a wicked grin. "Or maybe it does! I haven't gone too far that way yet." He pointed in the direction that Sarah had been going, and she felt a trill of fear run through her. What if she had just kept wandering that way? Would she have gotten lost? She didn't have too much time to wonder though as he walked in the opposite direction. "There's this... structure this way though. I can't figure out how to get in, but it's a good landmark, at least. I can get to Folly's Bridge from there."

Sarah nodded, and kept pace with him.

When they had been walking for a while between the towering trees of the apparently endless forest and gotten nowhere that looked different, and then they went on walking for a while more, and it was all the same. Another hundred steps, she told herself, and if we are still getting nowhere I'll think of something to say to him.

One, two ... ninety-eight, ninety-nine. The forest stretched to eternity.

"It's still so dark," Sarah said by way of breaking the silence.

"Hm? Of course it's dark. It's night."

Sarah blinked. "No, it's daytime. Well past two in the afternoon," Sarah sighed. She had definitely missed her interview. Then she remembered. "Oh! See?" She presented her wrist watch to him with a smile. "It's just after two..." she looked at the face of the watch and frowned. Five thirty? She hadn't been there that long! "Five thirty. Still, daytime."

He shook his head. "Morning," he assured her. "The sun will be coming up soon... ah-a! See? There's the tree break!"

Sarah had to stop herself from running ahead. It had felt like they'd been walking through the forest for hours, although she knew that it couldn't have been more than just an hour or two. Her eyes craved something other than trees, and she sighed with gratitude as she saw that there was a tree break a short distance away.

"Thank goodness!" She said and continued to walk alongside him.

They emerged from the forest and stood side by side on a windswept hilltop. Between them and a hill in the distance on which the castle stood was a broad valley. In the darkness she could not tell what was down there. She turned again. The wind blew her hair over her face. Brushing it back, she took one timid step forward.

She peered out at the valley, and by taking her eyes off the blackness below she became aware that a hint of light was staining the rim of the dark sky. She watched the light grow brighter, changing from red to pink, and then pale blue, and when she saw the edge of the sun inch up over the horizon she shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt the sun warming her skin.

The sun was above the horizon, and color and shape were seeping into the valley. There was an awful lot of stuff down there; she could tell that much. She went on watching, and gradually she took in the full nature of the valley. At first she could not believe it. As the sun rose higher and disclosed more to her, her shoulders drooped and her face lost its smile. She shook her head slowly, dumbfounded. From the foot of the hillside where she sat, to the castle and beyond it, and from horizon to horizon on each side, there stretched a vast, intricate maze of walls and hedges. On a distant hill, brilliant in the early morning sun, she saw a castle. She grabbed at her companions arm as recognition swept over her and she tried to see more clearly. She had thought that it was a dream, a fading memory of something that never was. But it was unmistakable - there were towers with turrets, massive walls, spires and domes, a portcullis and drawbridge. The whole edifice was built on top of a sharply rising mound. Around it the lightning flickered and forked like snakes' tongues. Beyond was blackness.

"What is it?" he asked her, seeing her frightened expression. "Do you know what it is? Do you know where we are?"

"The Labyrinth," she whispered. "I can't believe it. It's The Labyrinth."

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A/N: Reviews are the only payment I receive. If you enjoy it, please, leave a contribution in the little box.


	3. And What Sarah Found There

Title Wonderland

Author: Miss Selah

Summary: On her way to a job interview, Sarah takes a wrong turn and her whole world is turned upside down.

Genre: Adventure / Romance

A/N: I love your guy's theories, keep them coming! The mystery is a huge part of this story! But to answer a few questions, YES, this is cannon universe. It is set about 11 years after the movie.

No, Moira is NOT the bag lady. I can't tell you who she is yet, but I will after her character is revealed more.

To the reviewer who thinks that these are 'totally unrecognizable Wonderland characters," I really suggest you familiarize yourself with Brian Froud's work, or accept my usage of his characters. For those of you who don't know who Brian Froud is... well, he's the amazing mind behind the goblins of Labyrinth, which was more than just 4 characters running around. I mean, just look at Return to Labyrinth and the rich characters that they had in that.

No, I will NOT be erasing a main character nor reconsidering him. Shove off.

And as always, thanks for the reviews!

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**Chapter Three**

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She slumped to her knees disbelievingly, unable to look away from the maze.

No.

_No_.

It had been a dream. The fantasy of an overly emotional fifteen year old girl who hadn't been getting enough sleep and had been getting too much grief from her parents, coupled with a screaming baby. The Labyrinth had been the product of an excitable imagination.

It _wasn_'t real.

"Sarah?"

Sarah jerked her eyes away from the Labyrinth.

"You're the Goblin King," she whispered. "I didn't want to believe it at first, but look at you..." She looked him over. He was a resplendent figure, upright and blond, otherworldly in his frock coat, diamante at the neck, shoulders, and cuffs. His tall hat would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but on him it only added to his majesty. Ruffs of pale silk at his throat and wrists only made the pallor of his skin more sickly. He was holding his odd cane up near his face, his mouth resting on the curve, but he had lowered it now, to look straight at Sarah in the eye. "You're identical to him."

Behind him, the forest stood looming. He held his hand out. Sarah blushed and turned away in embarrassment. "I'm not crying," she told him as she covered her eyes. "I'm not."

"Did he hurt you, this Goblin King?" the man asked.

Sarah hesitated before answering, and did not uncover her eyes. She couldn't look at this. She couldn't look at him. "He was a dream," Sarah told him quietly. "A dream I had over a decade ago. _He wasn't real._"

"Did he hurt you?" He asked, again.

Sarah frowned and felt a wetness in her hands. Did he hurt her? He stole her brother. He trapped her in a maze. He pushed her to her limits. He set the cleaners on her, a solid wall of furiously spinning knives and chopping cleavers bearing inexorably down upon them, dozens of keen blades glittered in the light, every one of them pointing forward and whirring wickedly.

And she defeated him.

She smiled.

And he wasn't real.

"He hurt me," she said quietly, her smile fading. "Very badly."

There was silence, a long silence, and Sarah finally lowered her hands from her eyes, and then gasped. The man in the odd hat was kneeling directly in front of her. She had not expected that he would really be there. He was, and he was still holding out his hand to her. She took it, feeling dizzy.

"Yes you look like him," Sarah said, and looked deeply into his piercing blue - _matching_ - eyes. "But you're not him, are you?"

"He hurt you, Sarah," the man said solemnly, the serious look back in his eyes. "So I can't be him."

"How do you figure?" Sarah asked. "You don't even remember who you are."

He took the hand of hers that he held and pressed it to his chest, just beneath the pendant of the golden sickle. "Right here," he said, "in that place that recognizes you."

Sarah felt the steady beat of his heart, and she blushed but was unable to avert her eyes from his. Her hand burned where he touched her, even through his gloves.

"I think I would break before I could hurt you," he said, seriously. "And so I know that I can't be him."

Sarah smiled. That was awfully sweet, even coming from a stranger. When was the last time that someone had been so kind to her? So open and earnest? If it had ever happened before, she couldn't remember. Her dizziness ceased when he lowered her hand from his chest and just held it in his. The Labyrinth was at her back, and all she could see was the forest - and him. It was clear from his expression that all he could see was her, and in that instant, he made her feel like she was the loveliest woman in the world. All his attention was on her. The touch of his hands on hers was thrilling in a way that she couldn't describe.

"But you don't even know me," Sarah offered, trying to remember herself. She was a practical woman, and she was not prone to fits of fancy. She'd certainly never been so strongly affected by someone before.

"Don't I?" He asked. "My heart knows you, Sarah, and it doesn't even know itself. When I heard you crying in the forest, I didn't hear you with my ears. I heard you crying with my heart."

"I wasn't -"

"You were." He said, smiling. "I felt you in the forest. You were crying for me to come find you." His smile was gentle, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I think that you've been crying for me to find you for a long, long time. And I did. I found you. I don't need to know my mind to know you. I feel you." He cocked his head in a quizzical manner, giving her the impression of a handsome cat. "Do you feel me, too?"

"I feel ... I feel like ... I - don't know what I feel."

He was amused. "Don't you?"

"I feel like ... I'm in a dream, but I don't remember ever dreaming anything like this!" Sarah paused. "Except for the last time..."

Her gaze dropped, but he stopped her. Cupping her under the chin, he inched it up until she met his gaze again. "I'm not the Goblin King," he insisted. "Trust to me," he said, moving his face close to hers. "Can you do that?"

_Trust to me_, he said, and Sarah was suddenly fifteen years old and spinning in a ball room.

She smiled up at him. She thought how handsome he was, but one didn't tell a man such things, did one? More than that, there was something in his face that was openly enjoying the moment, without the mocking or secretiveness that she had seen on the Goblin King's face.

"Who are you, then?" Sarah asked. "You must have a name."

"Then you should name me," he said, "since any name of mine would only be for your benefit."

"Only mine, huh?" Sarah asked with a teasing smirk, ignoring her worries for a moment as she flirted with the handsome stranger. "No one elses?"

"Is there anyone else but you?" He asked in all seriousness.

Sarah froze. "How long have you been wandering out here, alone?" She asked. "Before you found me, was there anyone else?"

He shook his head. "I don't... I don't remember exactly," he said. He tugged on his pocket watch and clicked it open. "It stopped a long time ago. I tried keeping count of the days on the wall... the wall..." he scanned the wall of the Labyrinth and found what he was looking for, "the wall over there, but I stopped that after a while too."

"Days?" Sarah asked. "Weeks?" She hesitated. "Months?"

He pressed two fingers to his temple and frowned. "I don't remember." He groaned. "My head hurts."

"Sorry," Sarah said. "I wasn't trying to-"

He smiled. "It's alright," he said, and straightened out his hat. "Look, it's almost better now."

Sarah looked up at his hat. "Have you ever read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland?" She asked.

"I don't remember," he said. "Not a thing."

"Your hat," Sarah said, plucking it from his head. "It reminds me of someone."

"The Goblin King?" He asked.

"The Mad Hatter." She said, and flicked a finger, knocking it askew on his head.

The Hatter smiled. "Am I mad, then?" he asked, teasingly.

Sarah shrugged. "All the best people are." She stood and brushed off her knees. "Well, we aren't getting anywhere just sitting here, and I do not want to go back into that forest."

"Where are we going?" Hatter asked as he stood as well, following her lead.

Sarah frowned and covered her eyes, shading them from the sun. "There, at the center of the Labyrinth," she said.

He gave her a worried look. "You want to go in there? We'll never get out again!"

"I've beaten it before," she said, sure of herself. "I can do it again. There's a room in that castle that brought me straight home. I'm sure we can both get home if we can only get to it."

She looked down, remembering the last time she stood on top of this cliff. "It's steeper than I remember..." Sarah said, and the Hatter stood behind her, ready to catch her if she got too close to the edge. It was clear on his face that he didn't like how close she was to tumbling off of the cliff. "Maybe if I just-"

The ground underneath her bare feet gave way and Sarah felt herself toppling forward, into the darkness. Only by swinging her arms wildly did she manage to keep her balance long enough for the Hatter to grab her by the back of her suit jacket and pull her back beside him.

"Careful," he admonished, and looked over the edge with her. "It's steep."

She tried slithering down the hillside on her bottom, but that was no good either. Rocks and little shrubs impeded her, and she dared not stand up to get past them. She felt tears rising, but blinked them away. She would do it. There were no limits to what she could do, given the determination - which she certainly had - and the ingenuity - which she had never lacked yet, admittedly in more humdrum predicaments - and maybe a little luck - which she deserved, didn't she? - she would do it, she vowed, as she sat on the hillside with the Hatter beside her and no idea how to move another foot.

High above her she heard a lark sing.

"Are you okay?" He asked her, blue eyes full of worry.

Sarah frowned. "It's my feet," she said. "I can't get down this hill without any shoes... I won't be able to walk at all."

"Anything I can do to help?" he asked.

Sarah sighed and stared down the hill. "I just need to think for a minute," she said, and stared out over the Labyrinth. The first time that she had gotten through it, it had been mostly on dumb luck. This time, though, she studied it, trying to decipher some pattern to it, some principle of design that might guide her through it. She could see none. Corridors doubled, and wound and coiled. Gateways led to gateways leading into gateways. It reminded her of thousands of fingerprints laid side by side, overlapping each other. Did someone work all that out, she wondered, or had it just happened? If someone had engineered The Labyrinth, they were either a genius, or completely bonkers.

Perhaps a little of both.

"Can I carry you?" The Hatter offered. "You don't look that heavy," he said.

Sarah considered it. "The hill's too steep, even if I was light enough," she said on a sigh, frowning. "Thanks for the offer though."

"Can I give you my shoes?"

Sarah looked at them. They were beautiful and pale, and several sizes too big for her. Besides, if he gave her his shoes, he would have nothing to protect his feet. "Won't work," she said, and threw herself backwards so that she was laying down on the hill. "_ARGH_! I wish that I had just been able to find that shoe store!" She screamed in frustration.

No sooner than the words left her mouth that there was the sound of a bell chiming from the top of the hill. Both Sarah and the Hatter turned, perplexed as a hunched over tiny man appeared, leading a horse drawn covered wagon. Hanging from the back of it was a wooden sign, proudly displaying the words _Hattock's Cobbles._

"No way." Sarah said and stood carefully. "No. Way!"

She turned to face the Hatter, who had also stood. "I thought you said you never found anyone?"

"I didn't!" He insisted, and brushed some grass off of her back. "I've never seen anyone! I swear!"

"Someone called for a Cobbler?" Came a sharp and bossy voice from over the hill. Both the Hatter and Sarah looked up, but the tiny man hadn't moved. "Well?"

They navigated carefully up the rest of the way, Sarah being extra careful not to cut herself on a rocky outcropping. When they got to the top, though, the little man had still not moved from his place at the seat of the cart.

Sarah approached him slowly. "Hello?"

"Who are you talking to, then?" The voice came from her left and Sarah jumped, looking around. The cobbler had still not moved, and when she looked more closely, she realized that it wasn't a man at all... it was just a well crafted puppet of a goblin, sitting at the wagon.

"Curious..." Sarah said, and poked it gently.

"Don't be rude!"

Sarah jumped again, and looked back at the Hatter who was staring wide eyed at the horse. Sarah was about to ask him what he was looking at, when all of a sudden it happened again.

The horse's mouth moved as though it was stuffed full of peanut butter as he asked, "so which one of you called for a cobbler?"

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A/N: Reviews are the only payment I get. If you enjoyed, please leave a contribution in the little box.


	4. The Rune of Motion

Title Wonderland

Author: Miss Selah

Summary: On her way to a job interview, Sarah takes a wrong turn and her whole world is turned upside down.

Genre: Adventure / Romance

Beta'd by: See03

A/N: At the request of my Beta and to try and create a richer story experience for the readers, here is a link to an image of the Horse Faery, Hattock. Please remove the spaces.

www . fanpop clubs /brian-froud/images /26592063/title/ motion - runes - elfland- photo

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Chapter Four

The Rune of Motion

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He balanced on his two hind legs and reached around, unhooking the cart from his back before stretching out, cracking his long back as he reached his forelegs high over his head with an appreciative groan.

"The horse is talking." Sarah said quietly to the Hatter, eyes wide and jaw slack as she pointed. "That horse has _hands_."

"That horse can hear you," Hattock said with a long face as he glowered at Sarah. "Oh? You're human, eh? Well, what do you want? Go on, speak up!"

Sarah couldn't help it. She knew that she had been brought up better than that, but she stared. His pinky-flesh tone flank was obvious in patches beneath well-worn pale fur. He look almost undernourished as he stood on two hooves, his rib cage extending out well past his gut. His bones protruded at the hips, and where the bone meet his skin, purple veins became clear beneath his papery skin. He was uncovered, and Sarah blushed when she saw that the evidence of his masculinity hung down beneath his barrel, and she quickly darted her eyes back up into safer territory. It would have been less startling, Sarah thought, if he looked just a bit less human. Hattock saw her staring and whinnied irritatedly, tossing his short white mane.

"Was there something that you wanted, mortal woman, or did you just come to stare at a faery beast?"

"I need something!" Sarah said, perhaps a touch too quickly. "I need something. Moira told me you sell shoes?"

"Moira, eh?" Long, fleshy digits stroked his short white beard as he eyed with her suspicious, beady eyes. "Well if Moira sent you then you can't be all bad, even if you are a very rude woman."

Sarah looked to the Hatter for support, but he only shrugged with a grin and a look that clearly said what did you expect?

"How much were you lookin' to spend, dearie?"

Sarah frowned and reached into her pockets. "Well, it's like I told her," she said sadly. "I only have my card." She pulled it out and presented it to Hattock, who pressed his muzzle to it, inhaling deeply. His wide, equine nostrils panted warm breath on to her, and generations of instinct had her pressing her thumb tightly to the inside of her palm for fear that he would bite it off.

"Plastic?" He snorted with haughty derision. "That wont do you any good here, dearie."

Sarah sighed. "I know."

"What about you then?"

The Hatter frowned. "I'm afraid I don't have much..."

Hattock's black eyes narrowed on him. "Would you lend me that hat, only for a second?"

Hattock reached up and when the Hatter didn't attempt to stop him, he gently pulled the hat off of his head with both hands, holding it reverently. "Why, it can't be..."

Sarah and the Hatter stared at the hat, trying to see what the cobbler saw. "What can't be?" The Hatter finally asked.

"These feather, these feathers; look!" Hattock plucked one of the owl plumes out of the ribbon and sniffed it. "Smell." He opened his mouth wide and let his long horse tongue hang out, and dragged the feather across it, smacking his lips when he was done as though it was something delicious. "I can't believe it!"

"What?" Sarah asked, getting nervous at the strange creature's excitement. "What is it?"

Hattock put tucked the feather back in the ribbon and looked up at her traveling companion and snorted a happy breath. "Don't you recognize it? This is one of the King's plumes!" He said, hunching over so that he stood almost on all fours in the oddest contortion of a bow that Sarah had ever seen. "That must make you the one that he forgot, then."

_"'He?'"_ Sarah mouthed at the hatter, who shrugged.

"You know who I am?" He asked, stunned.

Hattock froze in the motion of handing the hat back to him. "Of course I have! Who hasn't heard the tale of the blue-eyed King?"

"So you do know him!" Sarah said, pushing ahead. "You know who he is?" She waited with bated breath for Hattock to reveal the Hatter's identity. _Please don't be him,_ Sarah thought, her heart racing so hard she could hear the blood in her ears. _Please, let him be anyone but the Goblin King!_

Hattock guffawed, throwing back his horsey face with a loud whinny, his long ears flicking around his head. He caught them, one in each hand, and danced in a circle. "Aw, yeah? You know, they've even written a song for you. _But flame on flame, and deep on deep, Throne over throne where in half sleep.._." Hattock snuffled his nose and released his ears in favor of swiping at it. "That's all I remember of it, really. Never been much of a story teller."

"Who am I?" The Hatter asked, taking the hat back from the long-winded cobbler.

"You're the forgotten King." Hattock said. "The part he locked away. So then this," he pressed a long, pale finger to his toothy mouth, "this must be the girl-child champion." He appraised her with skepticism. "Thought you'd be smaller, girl."

"I _was_," Sarah said, eyeing the Hatter - _Jareth_ - with suspicion as she stepped away. "I've grown since I was last in the Labyrinth.

Jareth looked down at Sarah and she scowled. "I thought you promised you weren't him!" She shouted unreasonably, as though he was to blame for his lost memory. "You could never hurt me, you said!"

"Sarah-"

"_Dont_!" Sarah hissed, reining her tone back in as she stepped away from him. "Just dont. Don't say my name."

He looked hurt, as though she had struck her, but he did as she asked. "If you insist."

Hattock looked between them, beady black eyes darting quickly. "Lover's quarrel, then?"

Sarah snorted. "We would have to be _lovers_," she spat the word out like an obscenity, "for that to be the case."

"Aw, poor Forgotten-King," Hattock said with a mocking voice that did nothing to hide his amusement. "Was it worth it, majesty? Worth it for this ungrateful chit?"

"_Ungrateful_!?" Sarah dropped her arms to her side and stamped her foot as agitation swiftly overtook her."And what's that supposed to mean?!"

Though Sarah was still upset at Jareth's duplicity, he still stood loyally by her side, crossing his arms and glaring down the horse-beast. "I believe that I would like to know the answer to that question as well." He glared at Hattock. "Care to explain?"

Hattock raised his hands in defense, laughing uncomfortably. "No offense meant, majesty. Honest; ignore this old cobbler's ramblings." He covered his snout with both hands and then, as though struck by a fit of inspiration, he clapped his hands together. "Tell you what? Just for that, ol' Hattock will cut you two lovely folks a special, one time only deal."

Sarah frowned, skeptical. "I'm listening."

"I'll give you a pair of new shoes for your hat."

"My hat?"

"Hold on," Sarah said, catching the gleam in the horse's eyes as he stared at the hat covetously. "Don't be so quick." She held up a hand and looked Jareth straight in the eye. _Trust me,_ her eyes said. _Don't speak._ "Let's not be so hasty, Jareth," she moued her lips attractively, and Jareth felt his mouth go dry. "After all, he was awfully nasty to us, wouldn't you say?"

Jareth felt mirth bubbling up inside of him. So she obviously trusted him enough to include her in this little game. "Yes, pet, I would most definitely say he was."

"Mmhmm," Sarah nodded, "mmhmm..." There was a pause of hesitation while Sarah turned back to face Hattock and leveled a glare at him. "I am not so sure that I want to buy his shoes, after all." She said and spun on her toes. "I will just find another way down to the Labyrinth," Sarah said. "I'm sure that I can find one!"

Hattock gulped audibly. He wanted those plumes!

"Aw, missy, don't be like that," he said, rubbing his hands together like an old miser. "Ol' Hattock was just messing around, you know. Having a little laugh." He dragged out the word laugh so that it sound like _lawff_. "Don't be so quick to turn me away!"

Sarah stood by Jareth's side, ignoring the way that heat came off of him like a furnace. "I don't know," she said, and reached up, taking the hat off of his head. As she lifted her arms her breasts swelled beneath her suit, and Jareth did his part not to stare. "It's a lovely hat," she said, and caressed the crushed velvet as one might a lover. Her fingernails scraped along the seam and she sighed, touching one of the plumes that Hattock had not stuck in his mouth. "And such beautiful feathers..." she pulled one out and handed the hat back to Jareth, who accepted it but didn't take his eyes off of her.

Sarah held the owl feather with both hands, two fingers on the hollow shaft and two fingers on the tip of the rachis. Her eyes were soft as she ran the vane along her chin, the feathers splitting and bouncing back together as they caressed her smooth pale skin. Both Jareth and Hattock's eyes were transfixed as Sarah stuck her tongue out and touched it to the black tip, closing her lips around it and inhaling through her nose so that the after feather lifted and fell with her breast. "You were right, Hattock; this is a very fine feather." Sarah said, and then batted her eyes back at Jareth. "Would you like a taste?"

Jareth heart was beating so hard Sarah could see his pulse in his throat when he gulped.

"That hat..." Hattock said reverently, swallowing hard. "I want that hat."

"A pair of cheap shoes for the King's Hat?" Sarah scoffed, but spoke in a demure, sultry voice.. "This feather alone is worth more than a pair of your shoes, to be sure!" She said, bartering hard. "It did come from the wings of the King, after all. Isn't that what he called it, Jareth?" Sarah asked. "The King's Plumes?"

Jareth nodded. "'King's Plumes,' he said. A magic feather is most definitely worth more than a pair of shoes."

Hattock nodded. "Of course, of course. Trust ol' Hattock," he said, looking more and more nervous by the second. "I'll take care of you, missy..."

Sarah sighed and flicked out her hand. "I don't know," she said, and twirled the feather between her fingers so that it barely touched the bare flesh as her breast. She sighed and pulled it up slowly, marking a moist trail where it touched her skin. "I...just...don't..._know_..."

"I want that feather!" Hattock exclaimed at long last, and Jareth blinked back to reality. So did he... Jareth thought, but said nothing.

"Magic shoes for a magic feather, yes?" Hattock retreated, stepping backwards to his cart. "Give me just one second, I've got the thing for you, miss." He disappeared into the wagon, making a clammer as he went. "Just give me one minute!"

He was preoccupied, so Jareth approached Sarah quickly. "Sarah, I'm being honest. I had no idea that I was -"

The sexy, smoldering look was gone from her eyes, replaced with a hard and cruel slant. "We will talk later," Sarah promised in a hard voice. There was a steel in it that was absent during her performance. "_Later_!"

Jareth nodded. "Later. Right."

Hattock reappeared from behind the cart with his strange hands behind his back as though he was presenting her with a great gift. "Your shoes, my champion."

Sarah and Jareth both stared, and Sarah frowned with disapproval. They were simply, ugly things - made of brown leather with thin laces that tied up nearly from the toe. They were long, too, reaching all the way to mid calf. There was nothing particularly note-worthy about the shoes, save for how hideous they were, but the soles looked thick at least so Sarah decided she was probably better off not complaining.

She sighed. "I'll take them," she said, and looked at Jareth. "That's alright, right?"

He nodded.

Sarah exchanged the feather for the ugly shoes and shrugged off her jacket, laying it on the ground before sitting down on it. She arranged her skirt so that she would reveal nothing as she put on the horrible things. She pulled it on with a hard tug, not wanting to take the time to unlace them all the way down to the toe. As she straightened out the tongue on the second pair, though, she noticed something odd.

The leather was entirely unmarked, except for on the inside of the tongue of the shoe, where she saw a strangely carved symbol that did not look entirely unlike a capital 'M'. Staring at it more closely, she noticed that it had been carved in an almost amateur fashion and that something dark - _charcoal_? - had been pressed into the mark.

"Hattock?" She asked. "Is this some kind of signature or something?"

He laughed. "In a manner; it is my gift." He said, kneeling down on his flanks beside her. "Look, do you see? the rune of motion calls attention to a physical mode of travel. It speaks also of harmonious relationships such as those existing between bodies and minds, between ourselves and the land. Between Kings and Queens," Hattock glanced up at Jareth with a knowing, cocky smile. "Between _lovers_."

A blush bloomed on Sarah's face but she steadfastly refused to look up at Jareth. "Between a horse and its rider," Hattock continued. "You know, the saddle is a place of privilege and perspective, a vantage point from which many sights are seen in relation to each other. Yet, like the ancient mounds of the land, such perspectives may produce both blows and wonders, both blessing and difficulty."

Jareth peered over Sarah's shoulder to admire the rune.

"This is not a land where there are any true destinations; not here, in this Labyrinth. It is a place you move through, or across. It is merely a place you journey through, and are reborn on the backs of visions."

"What does that have to do with shoes?" Sarah asked skeptically.

Hattock snorted. "Right living ties you to the land," he continued, "and the rune of motion speaks to that. This rune's gift is not the wisdom of a single narrative, but of a progression of images sounds, and impressions. Its power lies in the idea of succession and in our ability to build stories from such shards. This rune stands for the wisdom garnered through swiftness, transition, and right travel. It embodies the vehicles for such journeys; both in physical bodies and in imaginative minds. Now tell me, champion; that's worth a magic feather, wouldn't you say?"

Sarah frowned at him. What a lot of rot! She thought. He was a true swindler, talking her in circles. "They're just _shoes_," she said flatly.

"Are they?" Hattock smiled, and winked at Jareth. "Then why not take a few steps in them, missy?"

Both Jareth and Hattock reached down for her, and Sarah stood promptly, never lifting her feet from the ground.

_If shoes have to be this ugly,_ she thought,_ then they had better at least have the decency to be comfortable!_

She took a single step, and in an instant, she was gone.

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A/N: Reviews are the only payment I get. Please give generously.


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